He tasted like whiskey
by BehindTheCellarDoor
Summary: It was 4 am and Dean hadn't been this drunk since since a long time ago. He didn't want to find anyone when he went back to the bunker, but Castiel was awake... and he had never looked better. -edited-
1. Chapter 1

It was almost 4 am; a bad time to wake up and an even worse to finally get home. Dean wasn't sure about many things, but at one point of the night he could swear he had been drinking shots with Jimmy Page himself. He fumbled with the keys, trying to open the front door of the bunker that now seemed to move and twirl slowly, defying Dean's great aim. 'Stupid door…'

He finally opened it and managed to take a couple steps inside before he stumbled with his feet; he grabbed the rail before he could fall down the stairs and into a skull fracture and total embarrassment. After all, walking is hard… especially when you have the weight of cheap alcohol over you. He slowly went downstairs with one hand firmly gripping the rail and the other sliding down the wall. Dean reached the bottom and let out a small laugh, he hadn't been this drunk since… hell, since a long time ago.

He moved towards his room, trying his best not to knock down anything in his way through the silent corridors. If Sam heard him, he would probably throw some bitch fit about getting home late, and about his drinking problem and how they were in a serious investigation and what about blah blah blah blah… Maybe it would be a better idea to just beat it in the war room or something, he wanted his bed but if he could avoid going by Sam's room…

He clumsily walked past the library door and caught a glimpse of a shadow just sitting there at the table. He walked a little faster, hoping he wasn't noticed, but let's face it he wasn't the sneakiest lad right now.

"Dean?" called a voice from inside the Library.

'Shit… so much for not getting caught…' Dean thought to himself as he let out a sigh. He backed towards the entrance. Cas had lowered the book he was reading and stared at Dean leaning in the doorway. 'Dammit'

"Hey Cas, I was just…" he paused, he didn't have a great excuse this time "What are you doing up at this hour, anyway?" said Dean with a poor effort at sounding clear, his speech slurred by the purple nurples he had drank before.

"I could ask you the same thing, Dean. It is late."

"Or really early, if you think about it." replied Dean with a dumb smirk in his face. Cas didn't find his comment funny. Dean walked towards the table and straddled over a chair next to the former angel, tapping his fingers on the rest. "So what are you even doing here, I thought you would be asleep by now."

"I was just reading, doing a little research for the case." replied Cas, turning the page. "I am sure you were doing the same." He gave him a condescending smile and Dean pinched his eyebrows together.

"Well, yeah of course… I was totally doing that." Said Dean attempting a serious face. "Very important research…" he couldn't keep a straight face any longer and broke out with a laugh. Cas joined him quietly, closing his book.

Dean turned to look at him, surprised to see Cas laugh and smile like that. Had he always been this attractive? He hadn't noticed it before; the way his eyes shined, the light stubble. He stopped himself for a moment, after all, it was Cas he was thinking about, but still…

"Whoa dude…" said Dean leaning closer to him over the back of the chair. "Your eyes are like… super blue. Have you noticed that?" he rested his chin on the back of his hands "Like, the bluest blue to ever blue."

"I believe you are very drunk, Dean." Laughed Cas, leaning back in his chair, away from Dean. "You reek of alcohol."

"Hey, I'm just stating the facts." He replied, sitting back. "So…" he started, suppressing a laugh and smirking "did it hurt?" Dean tried to compose himself and raised an eyebrow at him. Castiel just sat there, squinting. What was Dean even talking about? Was he injured? Castiel looked down at himself and ran a hand over his face. There was no blood there either. He tilted his head.

"I don't understand, what hurt?"

"When you fell from heaven." Dean winked at him, leaning closer before finally laughing, resting his forehead on his hands.

Cas's face turned into a pained mask, "Yes, Dean. It did hurt to have my grace yanked out of me."

Dean looked at him, not laughing anymore. "Oh come on Cas, it was a joke. You know, a pick-up line." He gave Cas a pat on the back.

"Do you mean that was a flirtation?" Replied the blue eyed man with a confused expression.

If Dean had been sober, he would have denied the situation and walked away right there. He could have made some sense, apologize for his attitude and call it a night. If Dean's blood had a lower quantity of alcohol in it, he would have even acted offended at the suggestion… but the fact was that Dean was drunk as shit and he couldn't care less about anything right now.

"Yeah, it was. Not my best, but…yes." He smiled, reaching to place his hand closer to Cas, barely touching it. "I have more, I could try another one if you want." He stood up, almost falling back. He leaned on the chair for support for a moment before walking towards Cas, his steps unsure but somewhat charming. Or at least that is how Dean saw them.

Castiel stiffed in his chair, eyeing Dean with some kind of panic in his eyes. Dean didn't notice, and instead rested his arm around Cas and rested the other on the table, leaning closer.

"Are you from Tennessee?" he paused and Cas squinted at him, lightly opening his mouth to reply before Dean shook his head and placed a sloppy finger over his lips. "'Cause you are the only ten I see." Dean laughed lightly.

"I don't understand. How am I a ten? What kind of ranking system are you using? What is the scale? What are you measuring?" Cas looked at him confused.

Dean closed his eyes and let out a breath, he pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers before looking back at him, waving his hand around, the other arm still firmly around his shoulder. "It means I think you are hot, Cas." He petted the side of his face "I am saying you are a fine piece of ass." His speech was still slurred and Cas was a little blurry, but not blurry enough for him to not notice the sudden blush that spread across the angel's cheeks.

Castiel swallowed thickly. He could feel a strange burning sensation climbing from his stomach to his face. Dean's face was not that far away from his own and he was afraid he would listen to the loud thump of his heart. "Dean, you are drunk. You don't mean all that."

Dean lifted his eyebrows before returning to his default drunk flirty smirk. "Oh, but I do, sweetheart." He tried to laugh, but he was not sure if he was joking anymore. He looked at Cas, examining his face. The man looked back at him; something strange dancing in the bottom of his blue eyes, a small twitch in his bottom lip, a head tilted ever so slightly in a way that let the light hit his face in just the right angle. Suddenly, it wasn't funny anymore.

His smirk dropped as his eyes locked on Cas's. There had always been something between the two of them; unspoken words merged with looks that wouldn't give out, silent vows. It was the bond they would not speak of, the unnamed sensation when the other walked into a room, the brief but sharp pain when the other left. And now, as the alcohol numbed Dean's fears, as it blurred his vision…his heart was crystal clear.

Castiel saw the change in Dean's eyes, the way they softened. Maybe it was the alcohol speaking, but there was also something else. He was still new to humanity's subtle ways of working, but he was sure the beating of their hearts was suddenly one.

"Dean…" said Cas, and it was almost a whisper.

Dean leaned forward and in one swift movement grabbed the side of his face and pressed his lips against the angel's. Cas stared at Dean's eyelids with a tense body before he let himself go lax, his eyes slowly closing as his mouth parted slightly. He welcomed Dean's lips against his own and he kissed him back. It was a sloppy kiss; it wasn't rough or needy, and it grew with the slow pace of drunks and first time lovers. Deans hand slipped to Cas's hair, their faces locked and their noses bumping in the low fire of the moment.

Dean tasted like whiskey and vodka and rum, and his skin smelled like leather and cigarettes. Cas pulled away and Dean opened his eyes again, moving back too. He looked at him, licking lips that quickly turned up in a smile. Cas was beautiful, more than he would ever dare to admit out loud.

Castiel rested his hand over Dean's, lowering it to his cheek again, and he slowly stood up, dragging Dean with him. "You are drunk, Dean."

But it was not only his beauty; it was all those years summarized in this moment. It was the one that didn't give up on him, the one who had saved him, the one that kept believing and made _him_ believe. It was not lust what he was feeling… it was the sudden realization of adoration. It was the exact moment when the curtain fell and all the lies he had told himself were no longer plaguing his soul.

Dean ran a thumb over Cas's cheekbone, and licked his lips again. "I know." He pulled Cas closer. "I don't care". He crashed his lips together again, and Castiel gave in for a moment before Dean slowly pressed against him, his lips disconnecting as he threw all his weight over Cas. The alcohol was finally charging its final toll.

Castiel sighed, tilted Dean's face up and kissed him softly. "Well, I do." He grabbed Dean's wrist and guided him slowly through the bunker until they were standing in front of Dean's room. All the way to there, Dean had been shuffling awkwardly, almost falling down a couple times. Cas opened the door with caution, not wanting to wake Sam up as he helped Dean onto the bed. He carefully removed Dean's shoes and helped him out of his pants. Dean made a sound resembling a giggle, he was not sure exactly what it was, but Cas quickly covered him with a sheet. He leaned down, caressing the side of Dean's face and placed a tender kiss on his cheek.

He turned around to go, a warm feeling still growing in his chest.

"Cas… wait." said a slurred voice, his speech barely comprehensible.

Cas turned his face to the man looking at him from the bed.

"Yes, Dean?"

"I love you." Dean said as his eyelids dropped down.

"You are drunk." he smiled "…but I love you too."

He saw a smile cross Dean's face too before he closed the door. It was sure going to be an interesting morning.


	2. Chapter 2

People said being hungover felt like hell; Dean knew better. Nevertheless, he wouldn't say what he was feeling right now was particularly pleasant. His head throbbed and his eyes burned in a low fire. Something twirled in his stomach, but then again it might have been still; the whole room spun slowly, almost imperceptible in its movement, and it made him feel like saying hello to the drinks from last night. Dean thanked they were underground, because he didn't know what he would do if there were windows in the room; the dark was a dear friend in this moment.

A loud knock came to the door and Dean furrowed his eyebrows as it reached his ears amplified a thousand times. He buried his face further into the pillow, grunting low. The door opened and a ray of light from the corridor fell right on Dean's face. He immediately covered his eyes with his forearm and growled.

"Shut the damn door, you jerk." His voice thumped in his ears.

"Are you going to get up or what? It's almost 1 pm, Dean." Replied his brother from the doorway.

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Just close the damn door."

Dean reached behind him and pulled out a pillow, managing to throw it at the door just in time as his younger sibling slammed it shut, sending a bolt of pain to his head once more. Back in the darkness, he rolled to his back with his arm still over his head. The air smelled like the liquor that escaped from his pores and seeped into the sheets, into the mattress, and probably into the walls. He let out a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. His mouth was dry; he licked his lips and… 'Oh no.'

Dean threw his arm away from his face and opened his eyes with a startled look. The images from last night came rushing back to him like a stampede of tourists at Disneyland. Dean's stomach jumped and suddenly the room was smaller; the walls were slowly creeping closer to him, the air was stale, his mouth was still dry, and…

"I kissed Cas."

He stared at the ceiling as his heart raced. He had done a lot of stupid things while drunk, but this one was a record breaker. What was he supposed to do now? This was not one of those one night stands where he could just disappear and never see them again; no strings attached. This wasn't a make out session in the heat and anonymity of a club, or a kiss to a stranger about to leave town in a bar. This was _Cas, _the guy lived with them for crying out loud; unless he no longer did. His stomach jumped again.

Dean felt something coming up his throat and he raced to the bathroom down the hall, keeping his eyes partially closed in a poor attempt to numb the pain from the brightness. He reached the door and hugged the toilet like an old friend. He tasted the purple nurples one last time as he emptied his gut into the white porcelain, said his goodbyes and flushed it all away. His legs were shaking when he stood up, he took two steps to the sink and splashed his face with cold water. He brushed his teeth and when he finished he brought two fingers to his lips. He looked at himself in the mirror and whispered, still not believing what he was saying.

"I kissed Cas…"

Dean shook his head, trying to keep the thought away from his mind. He needed a cold shower and maybe another beer. He stripped from his clothes and walked into the cool water, taking his time, letting it wash away the stench of alcohol and that burning sensation in his head. He washed the cigarette smoke from his hair and the sickness from his face, but he couldn't wash away the memories of last night. Things were somewhat clearer, and he could now realize that was _not _Jimmy Page taking shots with him. Another thing was suddenly clear: Cas had kissed him back… twice.

"Fuck." He could have died in the shower that morning as he slipped in the tub, startled by that important realization; luckily, he grabbed the curtain in his way down and somewhat managed to keep his head from hitting the edge. He had just cleaned the bathroom the other day; there was no need to stain it with blood.

Dean stepped out and wrapped himself in a towel, stood in front of the mirror once more and stared at his reflection. 'Great. This is just great…' Back in his room, he got into clean clothes and folded the dirty ones into a neat pile by his bed; it was going to be a bitch to take the stench from them. He sat next to his pillow, his headache almost gone now, and pondered the situation. What did all this mean, anyway?

Until last night, he had never thought of Cas that way… right? Well, maybe his relationship with him had always been more than a friendship, but Dean was certain he wasn't gay. He couldn't be, he loved women, he _really_ loved them… Dean smirked to no one. 'Well, it's not like Cas is a _dude… _I am not even sure angels have genders. What is he even? Didn't he say he was a wavelight-blahblah of celestial intent or something like that?' But he was in a dude's body, and he would be lying if he said he didn't think Cas was at least a little hot. What was happening to him?

Then there was the second part of the problem: Cas had kissed him too. Did that mean he liked him? Dean wasn't sure if the former angel knew much about love and stuff. Sure, he had sex with that reaper, but that was a completely different situation… there was no way Cas was interested in him that way. He felt something move inside him and he shook his head again, Cas was his friend, god damn it.

"I told him I love him." His eyes widened "I fucking told him I love him." This was out of control. One thing was a kiss while being drunk, but saying _the L word_ was a whole other level. "I don't do _love._" He muttered in the dark of his room. He could only hope this would change nothing, he was drunk after all and drunks never meant what they say…right? "Fuck." That was it. He was going to pretend it never happened, everything could stay the same. Nothing awkward.

Dean sighed and stepped outside, heading to the bunker's kitchen for some grub. And a beer. Definitely a beer.

Cas didn't sleep that night, not that he slept much anyway. After putting Dean to bed -which made him sound like a child but aren't dunks like kids anyway?- he made his way back to the library and picked up his book again. He tried to resume his research, but he couldn't. He replayed the scene in his head one, two, three, four times, maybe more. He was no expert in human relationships, but the Winchesters had thought him much in the subject of love. He knew what he felt for Dean was exactly that, but not in the same way he loved Sam; now he knew the feeling was mutual. The thought ripped a smile from his mouth and he touched his lips. The taste of rum still lingered on his skin.

Dean stepped into the kitchen and headed straight for the fridge, he ran his fingers through his hair as he leaned forward with his head almost touching the ceiling of the cold box –damn, that felt good- and grabbed a lonely bottle of beer that rested in one of the lower shelves. He closed the door and turned around, and suddenly the bottle was no longer in his hand. He looked up to find it in his brother's gigantic hands.

"Get your own, man." Said Dean, annoyed, as he tried to take his drink back. Sam moved his hand further away, keeping it away from Dean's reach. "I am not joking, Sam, give me that." Was it anger crawling into his voice?

"Seriously Dean? Beer for breakfast? Didn't you have enough last night?" replied Sam with a slightly concerned look in his face, stepping away and towards the counter.

"Thanks for your concern, Sammy, but I don't need you patronizing me right now." Sam rolled his eyes and lifted his hands in surrender, walking away with a small okay that sounded more like a resignation than an agreement.

Dean reached for the beer, popped it open, and down the hatch it goes. Sam was right, but he didn't care right now. He had enough things to think about. Still, he only finished half of it and the rest went down the drain. He made himself a piece of toast with the last chunk of butter they had and drank a small glass of milk. It was a bit sour, but man… whatever. After that incredibly nutritious breakfast, he decided it was now or never and if he was going to face the situation –in his own strange way- this was the time to do it. He sighed and walked to the library, where he imagined Cas and Sam would be waiting.

Dean stepped into the room with studied movements 'Nothing awkward. You know nothing. Everything is cool.' He reminded himself as he spotted Cas in the same place he had found him last night. Sam sat by him with a cup of coffee in his hand and a book placed neatly in front of him. The angel must have heard him walk in, because he lifted his head and smiled at him with the warmest of smiles, his eyes shining brighter than ever.

"Hello, Dean. Good morning." He said in his deep voice.

Dean gulped, trying to keep as calm as possible and hoping to look as normal as he could. He walked to the table and sat on the opposite side, as far as it got. "Hey Cas…" He tried to look at him 'Damn, just act natural.' But he found he couldn't. His eyes wandered into the room and his fingers starting tapping the wood before he could notice he was doing so, his feet seemed to be moving to this strange beat too.

Cas tilted his face ever so slightly, a glimpse of confusion crossing his face, his smile still screwed into his lips. "Are you okay, Dean?" He said as he slid a hand towards him over the table.

"What? Uhm, yeah, yeah. I am fine. Just a little hungover, you know… last night is just a blur. I don't even remember how I got here in the first place." He lied and tried to laugh.

Sam shook his face and laughed between his teeth. "You got a problem, man." Cas was not that amused. That gorgeous warm smile? Gone. The light in his eyes? Gone too. And Dean noticed that, he noticed it and the only thing he could do was lower his gaze and feel how the guilt settled in his stomach.

"Oh." That is what Cas said, but Dean could tell there was much more being said between the waves of the word. Sam was a smart kid, and he probably noticed something was going on because suddenly the room was silent and he sat uncomfortably on his chair.

"So, get this…" Sam started, breaking the uncomfortable lack of talking, and continued with a long explanation about some lore concerning the case he had found on one of the old books in the bunker. Dean thanked the intervention and quickly slid into it, trying hard to concentrate and keep his mind away from the subject. Despite this, he couldn't refrain himself from looking every two minutes in the direction of the angel. Cas's eyes seemed to be fixated on the book between Sam's hands, but they were not exactly there; they were looking past it, to nowhere in particular. His mouth was a thin line and his hands rested numbly on the table.

Dean bit his lip lightly and directed his attention back to his brother. They interchanged information about the case, theories, and elaborated a plan to gank the creature that was taking the kids in the neighborhood. Cas made two or three comments about what he had found about it, but his voice was empty, all professional. If Sam noticed any difference, he just shook it off. Cas didn't look at him in all that time, and after the -what it seemed to now be- meeting ended, he was gone. Where had he go? Dean was not sure. Maybe his room, maybe the dungeon, maybe outside, maybe nowhere in particular. The point being he was no longer in the room and the two brothers sat alone in the library.

Dean ran a hand over his face and sighed. He felt horrible. He wanted to go after him and tell him he was sorry, that he remembered, that he had meant all he had said last night.

"So… what was that?" Said Sam, lifting an eyebrow and nudging at the door where Cas had disappeared.

"No idea." Lied Dean, and that was the only thing that was said about it.


End file.
